


Austria in Oz

by Justanotherorange



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, About the ships above, Crossover, Hetalia Crossover, How tf do i tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I cant update for shit so, M/M, School sucks-, Slow Updates, Stuck in a book AU, Wizard of Oz, anyway onto the main tags, how do you even do character development, i might impliment them into the fic where i can, nation and human names used, probably, so i suppose if you don't like it very much uhhh RIP i guess, some character development, they wil likely be mentioned or implied at least, this is probably going to be mainly lighthearted and comedic, though PruAus will definitely be in this fic, uhhh have fun reading I guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justanotherorange/pseuds/Justanotherorange
Summary: It was your average World Meeting, AKA: Utter and Complete Chaos ™. Austria decides to read a book to pass the time, but before he knows it, he's stuck in a fantasy world, and he has to go on an adventure to defeat an evil witch! He knew he should have stayed at home. But along the way, he will have to brave danger, adventure, and his own extremely annoying friends! (not that he'd call them that of course-) Beware! Mildly homoerotic situations and unresolved sexual tension lie ahead!! How will he survive?!? Find out here, in,Austria in Oz~





	1. Prologue: All he wanted to do was read a book

**Author's Note:**

> You'll notice I've used both Human and Nation names here. Human names will represent the nations Roderich is closest to. However as the story continues, you'll see that Roderich uses Human names more. Keep that in mind~  
> Edit: Completely forgot to mention this! Sorry! But this fanfic was heavily inspired by this video here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcbkwNqiK7A. I highly HIGHLY reccommend watching it, it's so good~! I don't own anything btw, except my writing I guess.

_How did this happen to him? Why? Thinking back, it had all begun at the World Meeting. And to think, all he had wanted to do was read a book…_

Clouded with discontent, Roderich sighed heavily, so heavily in fact, that if that sort of thing was possible, he’d make the ground shake with the amount of force exhausted upon that one, single, sigh. (Of course, to say that sort of thing was possible was, well, quite preposterous, preposterous indeed-!)

To say that he was having a bad day would be, well, an… understatement. He had (rather foolishly) decided to actually attend one of those infamous World Meetings this time, instead of staying home like most other nations and practicing Leschetizky (a favourite of his, and, surprisingly that blonde-haired bimbo Poand, who he had to begrudgingly admit, have…somewhat decent taste. In music, anyway), humming along to the tune as his fingers danced rhythmically along the keys. However, despite all odds, he’d eventually settled on humouring his mild curiosity, that had appeared practically out of nowhere, and actually, go. Roderich had had a feeling that nothing would be accomplished (politically anyway, save for the potential threat of yet another world war of course-), however, and he was right. So…very…right.

Across the table, that pervert France sat, who currently appeared to be preoccupied with whispering…well, something into England’s ear. Judging by the very, VERY irritated twitch of the latter nation’s eye, coupled with France’s history of having a rather…explicit taste in language, Roderich was sure he didn’t want to find out. America was parked aside the sandy blonde, cheek resting atop a hand, and was poking said nation’s eyebrows metronomically, looking at some unprecedented spot in the distance, his eyes glazed over with boredom, probably fantasizing about hamburgers and aliens, Roderich thought somewhat amusedly.

Russia was crouched behind a chair, his usual terror-inducing face contorted into one of fear. It would almost be a comedic sight had it not been for a platinum-haired Belarussian, peering at his from across the room, an equally (if not more) terror-inducing smile plastered on her face. She appeared to be muttering something in her native tongue under her breath, “Выходзь за мяне старэйшы брат”. Russia visibly paled at the sound of the words, and Roderich shuddered to think of what she could be saying, so chilling even the nation as cold and ruthless as the land from whence he was born was terrified of.

Gil-Prussia, he corrected himself mentally, was also seated nearby (despite having no actual need to be there, as he was technically no longer a nation and therefore his presence was no longer required at their dreadfully tedious meetings), and had moments before he lunged himself into in yet another squabble with Elizaveta, sitting uncomfortably next to each other, neither willing to break the silence that had settled down between them. The fuel was there, now it was only the question of who would spark the flame.

Having somehow managed to transport from his seat at the far-end of the table onto Germany’s lap, the man of question’s face caked in an expression that could only be described as pure distaste for everyone and anything around him, laid Feliciano. Speaking of brunette Italians, Romano had taken it upon himself to pelt the other with tomatoes; his face bore a rather striking resemblance to that of the shiny red sheen of the skin of the fruit he was currently holding in his possesion. Romano was simultaneously attempting (emphasis on the “attempting”) to, with all the might of his little Italian arms, push Spain off him, whose arms were latched around the other like a leech clinging onto its host desperately, whilst the other verbally assaulted him with obscenities loudly shouted in what Roderich assumed was a mixture between Spanish and Italian.

Japan and China sat side by side, quietly sipping tea and watching the scene play out in front of them, every now again slipping in a comment about, “how weird those westerners can be.” They would share a glance, before returning to sitting comfortably in silence. Well at least those two knew how to keep the peace. He heard a loud bang and rather loudly yelpt curses, and turned his head to see Elizaveta wielding her infamous frying pan, and Gilbert rubbing his head, a dark purple patch beginning to form. He rolled his eyes. Typical.

And of course, in all the excitement, the narrator forgot Canada (who was pretty much used to it by now).

In other words, this was your average World Meeting.

Roderich let out a huff of air from his nose, and deciding that he’d at least try to make it through this meeting without breaking into boredom-induced tears, reached into the satchel strung around the edge of his chair, and fumbled his hand about. He clasped his hand around the edges of a hard, rectangular object, and withdrew it from its fashionable prison, revealing, in his hands, none other than...a book.  
His fingertips brushed lightly against the old fashioned, black leather surface of the cover, and he stared at the tightly bound pages with a twinge of amusement. The book itself was a manuscript, decorated with delicately woven ink, staining the tea-tinted pages. The cover was a strip of black leather, tightly bound by a brown belt. White stiches laced intricate patterns around the book’s edges. Only four hand-stitched words shone from the cover.

“The wizard of Oz…” Roderich murmured quietly. From what little he was aware of the background behind the iconic tale, both book and movie had been made by America’s people. America’s movies were always so lively, technicoloured and action-packed. It wasn’t really Roderich’s cup of tea, to be perfectly honest. But speaking of a cup of tea, it had been over one in which he’d received the item in the first place. Roderich was more of a man of coffee, personally, but he did have somewhat of a soft spot for tisane, especially apple with a hint of lemon. A certain Brit had invited him over for a while, and, well, who was he to decline a free meal?

Somehow they had run out of topics to discuss (though whinging about America and Gi-Prussia’s antics certainly had been fun), until his eyes had landed upon the book, sticking out of a drawer. England had realised the object of his gaze, and had gone on to tell him about how great of a story it was (for something of American origin, anyway), and how he should definitely read it once he found the time. Roderich honestly didn’t care, but the other was quite insistent he take it, and well, it was getting late, so he’d half-heartedly slipped the book into his bag and left. What was that England used to describe it?

_“Magical.”_

Roderich knew some of the story, but it wasn’t crystal clear. A schizophrenic young girl suffers a concussion and is apparently whisked away to another world. There she encounters an entire village suffering from dwarfism, a hot-but-dumb-blonde, a man with a literal iron fist, a scaredy cat and a tyrannical con artist. They all go on an adventure to kill some lady with a shoe fetish.  
America’s stories sure were…interesting.

He sighed, and fingered the edges of the book. Was the really going to resort to such drivel to stave away his utter and complete boredom? Was this truly better that anything he could possibly be doing at that moment? He glanced around the room.

Yes, yes it was.

Resigned, Roderich turned the page, failing to notice how the cover of the book had morphed from an inky black shining a lot brighter than before, practically luminescent.  
Not a second later, the room was bathed in crimson, and a wailing siren pierced the Austrian’s ears. Immediately responding to the pain, the book tumbled out of his hands, falling to the floor, forgotten. Roderich clasped his now-free hands over his ears. An amazingly effective barrier, somehow no sound breached his ears, and he stared as the various nations stood up and dashed about the room. It was not far from akin to some soundless black-and-white film from way back when; had it not been for the sudden perplexion, it could have almost been perceived as rather comical, indeed. Roderich’s eyes searched the room for someone who knew what was happening.

Germany waved his hands and opened his mouth, appearing to be attempting to restore order by yelling, presumably at full volume, but this proved to be an ineffective task due to the distraught Feliciano clinging on to him for dear life, his arms flailing about and repeatedly hitting Germany in the face.  
Then, without warning, Roderich watched in horror as the walls began to crumble away, as though with the same effort as a mean-spirited teenager kicking down their younger-sibling’s sandcastle, and bricks and debris flying across the room. The nations backed away as far as physically possible from the imminent destruction, too paralysed with shock and dread to move any further. And eyes fixated on the scene in front of him, Roderich could understand why.

A huge column of churning air had descended upon the building. It mercilessly consumed everything in its path, slicing the large table in the centre of the room into hundreds of millions of distraught pieces. The strong pull of the mass of swirling wind tugged ferociously at Roderich’s hair, and he had to resist with all his mental and physical will to avoid its tightening grip.

His eyes scattered amongst the crowd, until they landed on the wispy hair of an all-too-familiar ex-nation. Purple orbs met crimson ones, and a pair of eyes shot open, and a mouth unlocked to release a silent scream. Gilbert pointed above him, and despite his current inability to hear what was going on around him, Roderich was unable to deny the deafening ‘CRACK!’ echo throughout the room.  
He whirled around and violet eyes shrunk to the size of pinpricks and ice pumped rapidly through his veins. A huge stone column had escaped its desperate bonds, and fell forward, to greet Roderich with a not-so-warm welcome. The other nations realised this, and those nearest to him all jumped forward in an attempt to somehow rescue their fellow nation, who was about to be crushed flatter than England’s sorry attempt at a soufflé.

Roderich felt sheer panic overtake him, and he clenched his eyes shut, praying for everything to finally-

Stop.


	2. Just want them shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roderich meets some (unfortunately) familiar faces.

His eyes fluttered open, and a dull ringing resonated in his ears. The smell of grass, freshly mowed, lingered in his nostrils, and he heard the faint cry of a foreign bird, one that was unfamiliar to his lands, flying overhead.

He sat up, slowly absorbing the scene that lay before him.

‘ _Where…where am I?_ ’

 

Blades of lush, mint-coloured grass danced as far as the eye could see. Picturesque plant life and flora dotted the landscape. A warm breeze carried leaves flying off tall, mighty evergreens and pines, chuckling between braches. A white shimmering orb smiled from a baby blue canvas, wispy brushstrokes of white painted below.

But what truly stood out, was the road running through the meadow, paved with beautiful yellow bricks, shining like gold amongst a sea of green.

Roderich slowly stood. It was then he noticed he was not wearing the classy three piece suit he had been wearing at the meeting.

He wore a simple collared shirt, a royally rich purple, with the sleeves rolled up to just above the elbow. Black skinny jeans wrapped around his legs, held in place by a jewel-studded belt. His feet rested comfortably in a pair of black and white high-topped converse. A simple, yet elegant silver watch with a black leather strip lay on his wrist. He reached a hand to his face and was relieved to know that his usual glasses were perched atop his nose. He noticed a presence in his right ear, and by feeling it he felt the smooth hard surface of metal, judging by the shape a flat circular stud? Roderich wasn’t exactly against earrings, but that being said, it’d been a while since he last wore some…

The piece de resistance of this…interesting new outfit, however, was the authentic Austrian Crystal draped around his neck, held in an elegant silver chain, shining like a star in the night. Despite having piercings, Roderich had never really been one for jewellery, and rarely wore any.

He had to admit, however, that the stunning accessories complimented his appearance splendidly, even if he did look terribly _modern_ , like one of those teens he’d sometimes walking bout, with their god-awful sense of style.

The nation frowned, contemplating his next move in this bizarre new world he had found himself in, when he heard a shout from behind him.

“FELICIANO WAIT!”

Roderich turned around to face the source of the sudden noise, and was knocked to the ground by a blur of colours hitting him at top speed. He landed with a thud, the wind knocked out of his lungs as something heavy settled atop his chest. Groaning, he wearily opened an eye, and instantly saw an all-too-familiar curl of brown hair.

“Feliciano, is that you?” He paused, taking in the other nation’s appearance. “And what on Earth are you wearing?!”

“ **FELICIANO!”**

“Italy-san!”

Roderich turned his head and looked to see Germany and Japan drawing near. They too were not dressed in their…usual attire.

The former axis powers no longer donned their usual military uniform, their colour palette had been replaced with something that contained…well, a lot more pink and red then before.

White collared shirts compete with plum bowties, frills for Germany, with beautiful buttons, trails of waving hand-sewn lines tracing the stitching, tucked (or untucked, in Italy’s case) into diamond-studded belts which held up tight-fitting fuchsia-to-red gradient pants meeting polished calf-length burgundy boots, heels lifting for support. Japan and Feliciano wore simple magenta blazers with gold buttons, in which patterns were intricately woven onto, whilst a magnificent ruby-red cape was draped over Germany’s shoulders, his frills affixed in place by a swirled grape and jam brooch.

What really drew attention, however was the gigantic red and white whirled lollipop, so huge Roderich could barely fathom it, was strapped to Germany’s back. It was like a mad scientist had raided a candy store. Though, judging from the sheer size of it, Roderich suspected it wouldn’t exactly feel like hardened sugar, but more akin to concrete should some unfortunate soul find himself in the position where he is hit over the head with it. Roderich eyed the lollipop wearily. He didn’t think Germany would as so senseless to do such a thing to him, but then again, this _was_ Germany. Best keep o his guard….He may have mentioned the not-so-bite-sized treat, had it not for the Italian currently deflating his lungs.

“Italy, would you care to-oof!-get off me?” He choked.

The sunny brunette blinked, before he realised what the man below him meant. “Oh! Sorry Mr Austria~!”

He rolled off of the nation, before standing up and offering a hand. Roderich rolled his eyes, and took it, pulling himself up and lightly brushing himself off; actually thankful his shirt hadn’t gotten creased.

“So, would any of you care to explain why you are here, and why you’re dressed like…that?”

Germany was the first to speak. “Firstly, you are one to talk, seeing as I never knew they sold such tight pants-“

“Why I-!”A splutter escaped the Austrian’s lips.

“-And secondly, this was not our choice. We just woke up here wearing these clothes. This dummkopf,” he gestured to Feliciano, who looked all too cheery for someone just called a ‘dumpkopf’, “was so scared that he ran away, leaving us to chase him. Though I must say, I did not expect you see you here.”

Roderich scoffed, “Believe me, I had _no intention_ of coming here either…” He pondered for a moment, “Well, it seems as though you have experienced a situation similar to mein own, though why our clothes are different I cannot say. Although, I can’t help but feel as though we have been brought here for a purpose. We _are_ nations after all, and it would cause a lot of worry if we were to suddenly go missing…”

Japan widened his eyes, “You think this is a kidnap attempt?”

Germany narrowed his eyes, icy blue orbs darting around, and slowly reached behind his back for the lollipop (what he was intending to use it for was unknown to Austria, but then again, he supposed, Germany could turn _anything_ into a weapon when he wanted to) and muttered, “If that is so, we must be on guard.”

Feliciano began to shake, trembling in his boots, “Ve~! Germany, I’m scared!”

“Could you, like, totally quit that? You’re so starting to freak me out!”

“Yes I agree Poland, there’s no need to be so cynical,” Roderich nodded.

Wait…

What?!

All four nations spun around in shock, gawping at the person who had apparently appeared out of thin air.

Poland was standing in front of them, hands on hips and an arrogant smirk on his lips, nothing out of the ordinary.

He was also wearing an extravagant, feathered pink gown covered in twinkling diamonds, its skirt trailing behind him. A silver tiara adorned with precious stones sat perched above his carefully-styled blonde locks, stunning silver-plated heels decorated his feet. A hand with painted nails held in its graceful grip what could only be described as a magic wand, a pink ribbon wrapped around the hold and a canary-coloured star hoisted on its end.

So, yeah, nothing out of the ordinary there.

Poland winked at them, “So, you got totally amaze-balls outfits too, right? We are, like, _soo_ fabulous!”

He gasped dramatically, bringing his free hand to hover in front of his mouth theatrically . “OMG, I like, totes have to take a selfie!”

He dashed to the others, and whipped out a sequin-coated phone, and shrieked, “Duck Face!” before snapping a picture. He observed his work, and let out a content sigh, “Perfect.” He faced the screen towards the other nations.

Poland was pouting into the camera, with Roderich, Germany, and Japan standing agape and wide-eyed behind him, faces contorted into shock, horror, and mild to severe disgust, save for Feliciano whose face bore an idiotic smile.

Roderich was the first to speak, “Poland, what in the name of Mother Gaea are you doing? Why is your phone working? Why are you here? And what is that godawful expression on your face?!”

Poland scoffed, “Yeesh Gramps, like, get with the times. It’s called a _duck face_ , just so you know.”e gasped, bringing his hands to his face. "

Germany rolled his eyes, “Ja, that is all well and good, but you didn’t answer the question.”

Poland smiled, “Oh, thanks for the reminder! Ok, so basically some magic junk happened and stuff, IDK, and for some reason we ended up here, and I got this awesome wand!” He gushed. “It’s like, totes legit too! Watch!”

He pointed the wand towards a nearby tree and yelled, “Like, magic please!”

A stream of a sparkled spectrum exploded out of the end of the wand, directly hitting and being absorbed by the tree’s trunk. It suddenly changed colour to a _definitely_ unnatural neon pink.

And then the tree set on fire.

The four non-magical nations took a couple steps back, sweating profusely.  Poland frowned, staring at the tree, tongues of flame licking its sides hungrily, immense het radiating off the poor thing, the luminescent pink turning a charcoal black.

“Why does that always happen?” He muttered.

He turned back to the other nations, the tree continuing to burn behind him. This place was magic anyway, it would probably be fine.

Probably.

“So, let me explain what’s happening.” He sang, “Basically, we’re stuck in the land of Oz.”

Roderich blinked, remembering the book he had been holding before he had come to this inexplicable place.  “You mean like the book?”

Germany groaned, “Feliciano forced me to watch the movie with him. It was much too bright and colourful in my opinion.”

Feliciano nodded, his curl bobbing up and down. “Ve~! That’s right! I was so scared of that mean witch that I held on to Ludwig and wouldn’t let go and so I had to end up sleeping in the bed with him because I was too scared to be on my own not that I don’t do that anyway because Ludwig’s really nice and he lets me sleep in his be-mph!”

The taller nation clamped his hand over the mouth of the smaller one, a blush making its way onto his face. “Feliciano there really was no need for that unnecessary information.”

Poland snickered, whilst posting the recording he had just taken to everyone on social media, “LOL, I’d say there was plenty of need for it~”

Roderich and Japan began to sweat. _‘Why is everyone I know crazy?’_ They thought in unison.

Poland smiled, glad that his video titled “Guess what Italy and Germany get up to in their spare time~ ;)” was beginning to increase in views. “Okay, so I should probably explain what’s going to happen.”

He pointed to Roderich. “You’re supposed to be taking the role of Dorothy, the chick who gets stuck here after some freak tornado. Those three,” He gestured to the former axis powers, “-are the Lollipop Men. They just stay here whilst you go on some journey to look for the magical Wizard of Oz! He’s the only one who can get you home. And I-“ He gestured to himself, eyes shut in an aura of smugness “-will be the stunningly good-looking fairy who grants you magical heels!”

“No thanks.” Said Roderich, who already walking away.

“Where are you going?!” Yelled Poland after him, eyes wide in shock. “Wait up would you?! I HAVEN’T TOLD YOU EVERYTHING YET!”

Roderich sighed, and turned around, “Yes Poland?”

Poland huffed. “Gosh, no need to be so rude.” He gestured to his shoes, “Fine, _I’ll_ take the fabulous heels okay?”

He glowered at Roderich. “You still need something of extreme importance though. Something precious, I don’t know.” He hummed, tapping his chin. “Like a… Like a…”

“Like a crystal?” Roderich offered, lifting up his necklace.

Poland grinned, snapping his fingers, “Yeah, like a crystal!” His face turned from realisation to bemusement, “Wait, what?” He laid his eyes on the l crystal (that somehow seemed to be brighter than before?) and gasped “OMG! Those are totally way more fabulous than high heels! Hey Roddy, your second name is ‘Edelstein’, right?”

“Don’t call me that-!” He snapped. He hadn’t heard that nickname forever, and even then, the only one to use it had been...

He shook his head and composed himself. Now wasn’t the time for reminiscing.

“Yes, yes it is.”

Poland’s eyes sparkled.“And Germany, ‘edelstein’ means ‘gemstone’ doesn’t it?”

Germany nodded, “Ja, it does in Austrian-German.”

Poland squealed rather audibly, causing the others to clamp their hands over their ears. “Eeee! It fits perfectly! Austria, where did you get such sweet jewellery anyway?”

Roderich shrugged. “I do not know, I woke up like this.”

Poland resisted the urge to squeal again. “OMG! It’s like, totally, destined to be!”

He coughed into his fist, in an attempt to compose himself.

“Ok, so you need to walk down this Yellow Brick Road, right, and then you’ll come across a scarecrow, a tin man and a lion. You’ll need to go with them to the Emerald City and you’ll meet a wizard. You’ll have to kill this witch-lady but don’t worry, ‘cause she totally deserves it or whatever-,”

“What?” Roderich stared at him in shock. “You want me to _kill some woman_? What do you take me for? I have no idea _what you think of me_ but my empire days are long over! And you want me _to just kill some random woman I don’t even know?!_ ”

Poland raised his hands, “OK, fine whatever man, just chill. You don’t have to kill the lady.”

Japan frowned. “Austria this sounds like it will be a very dangerous journey. Would you like us to come with you?”

Germany nodded, “Ja, he has a point. It’s best if we don’t split up.” He drew(his delicious weapon capable of inflicting both pain and cavities. “We will come with you.”

Poland growled. “Oh no you don’t! I won’t have you messing with this storyline! Besides it’s so much more entertaining to watch anyway! And I want to see if my OTPs become canon.”

He waved his wand and Feliciano, Germany and Japan disappeared in a poof of pink smoke.

He winked at Roderich, “I’m rooting for PruAus.”

He too disappeared in a fluffy cloud of smoke.

Roderich sighed and looked around him. “At least nothing set on fire this time.”

Beside him, a lone dandelion burst into flames.

“…”

“Ich hasse alles-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, than you so much for reading! Please, tell me your thoughts. Good or bad I'd love to hear them! (Comments are my coffee-)  
> With every comment, a free piece of Hetalia merch is give out!*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *offer not guaranteed

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for this being so short! But congratulations mes amis, you've made it to the end! *throws confetti* *accidently swallows confetti* *chokes*  
> *COUGH* Anyway- I've actually been working on this fic for a while now, but didn't have an account to actualy post it to. I tried on FF.net, but unfortunately my computer doesn't allow me to post stuff on there. Despite that, I continued writing even though I didn;'t think this would ever get published. However, once I made this account I became motivated. AO3 stopped working for a good 3 months or so, and I lost motivation. However, it's back, baby, and so am I! Keep in mind thay this IS exam season, and I am now in my last two years of school, so I'll be incredibly busy as exams roll by. For that reason, please be patient with me, I cannot promise a consistant update schedule. Hopefully at least once a month. With that being said, I'm extremely happy to finally be able to show you all what I've been working on! I've wanted to do this for ages, and I'm glad I finally can. Share your thoughts down below, and hey, constructive critism is always appreciated! Thank you all for readin, and with that,  
> Orange out~


End file.
